Loving the Alien
by kingfisherwings
Summary: Magnus finds out that making a bargain with the devil can make a devil of you, as well. Will he destroy what has the power to redeem him?
1. Flashback

Note: I wanted to play a little more with some of the things going on in "Mirror-Blind," but that story to me seems self-contained and completed. Think of this as a slightly darker variation on a theme.

* * *

"Your parents didn't name you Derrie. They simply did not." Magnus thought it was a good way to get the girl to just possibly say more than three words in a day's span to him. And hell, he was curious; they just couldn't have.

"You're right, they didn't."

Four words. It was a new record. "And what _did_ they name you, then?"

"Think about this: I voluntarily let people call me Derrie. How much worse must the alternative be?"

"There _is_ that, isn't there? Do I have to guess?"

She nodded, a little smile playing around her lips.

"Shall we just get Rumpelstiltskin out of the way now, then?"

That won him a stream of giggles. Much better than a nod, and much cuter, as well. And be damned if she wasn't talking to him, holding up her end of an actual conversation.

She was, as far as he could tell, cripplingly shy. She talked almost not at all to any of the MEM save Joe; strangely she seemed more rather than less at ease with Sting in full facepaint. But Angle she seemed thoroughly and generally afraid of; and himself...well, that was another thing, wasn't it? She never exactly made him feel his attention was unwelcome. She had Joe to do that for her, and he did it well.

She was Joe's cousin in some way that didn't involve blood relation, that much he knew. And Joe was spectacularly overprotective of her. Just finding her alone this way was an event. And an opportunity; he didn't intend to waste it.

"Have dinner with me."

Her eyes widened. He wouldn't have said that was possible; she seemed to him to be mostly eyes and cheekbones already. "I don't think that's a good idea. But thank you."

"Why isn't it a good idea? Joe?"

"Partly. He's done nothing but warn me off since I got here."

That had been three weeks ago. None of them had been able to work out why Joe had brought her in, not until the first time she spoke up in front of them all. She had a way of cutting straight to the solution of any problem put in front of her that was almost eerie. Her solutions weren't always workable - she seemed to target the optimal solution, which wasn't always the realistic one - but they were nearly always able to be modified into something that would work. That seemed to fret her terribly, because changing them always added risk. She clearly didn't like risk, which did very little to make this easier.

"Warned you off in general, or off me in particular?"

Her blush was answer enough.

"I don't bite. Nothing but my food. Never mind what Joe wants you to do. What do _you_ want to do?"

She shook her head, eyes downcast, but he didn't think she was saying no to his invitation, not yet at least. He tilted her chin up. "Go on, tell me what you want."

She turned a level, hazel gaze on him. He sat still for it; whatever she was looking for, she was going to find it or not.

"All right. I'd like that."

"Good, then. Good. I'll come get you - "

"No. I'll meet you. Tell me where."

"Don't be afraid of him, for fucksake. I'm not."

"Neither am I. But I want dinner, not a fistfight in the hallway."

There wasn't much arguing that to be done.

Dinner went easily, especially when, about halfway through, she seemed to draw back the veil of her shyness. It wasn't much - she didn't start dancing on the table, certainly - but it gave him a glimpse of what was underneath, and he liked what he saw. By the time she solemnly fed him a bite of her dessert, he knew what _he_ wanted for dessert.

He didn't think there was a chance in hell of it, not this soon at least. When she said yes, his mouth was already open to say _That's all right, then. Another time, maybe_.

He waited, and kept waiting, for the shyness to return with a vengeance. All the way to his hotel room he waited. It didn't happen. He'd been ready to take this agonizingly slowly if need be, but she responded fiercely to everything he did, returning his kisses hungrily, going after his clothes as urgently as he did hers, shivering and arching to every touch.

"Have you been without, then?" He was a bit unsure if he should ask, but he thought it might be a good thing to know.

She nodded, then pressed her face into his chest, suddenly shy again. He barely heard her answer: "Almost two years."

"I have some lost time to help you make up for, then." He scooped her up effortlessly; she was tall, built in a lean way that missed gamine by several feminine curves. She wasn't delicate, exactly, but he was having no trouble doing as he pleased with her.

And she liked that, clearly. She surrendered without question to all he wanted of her, gave whatever it was enthusiastically. They were a tight fit, but not complicatedly so; she didn't respond as if she were in any pain - the contrary, in fact. She eagerly welcomed his gentle initial penetration, and just as eagerly, his more aggressive thrusts as he realized she liked it that way.

She had one more surprise for him after he flipped her onto her stomach so he could take her from behind. He pinned her with one hand in the small of her back, thrusting harder and deeper as the new position allowed him to, gruffly ordering her to take it like a good girl, take all of it.

She went absolutely mad. She wasn't a screamer precisely - more of a very loud moaner. Given their situation, he found himself reaching down to cover her mouth several times. That seemed to excite her all the more, something that might prove well worth exploring further another time. But not now; he couldn't now. He thought he'd done well ending her two-year drought; she sounded like it, and felt like it around him as well. The rest was his.

A few more minutes and he fell across her, making her bear his weight, pinning her body to the bed as he came as deep in her as he could drive himself. She shuddered and tightened around him again, nearly silent this time; she'd submitted to being taken and to pleasuring him, and to her own pleasure in it.

It was the start of three months of utter indulgence for him; she did whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted, every time he got her alone. Getting her alone was sometimes more of an issue. She was determined to keep their activities their own business, and that meant she wasn't available to him as much as he liked. She more than made up for it when they were together, but it still troubled him; he didn't like being a secret she felt she had to keep.


	2. In Medias Res

"How could you? Not like this. I never thought..."

Magnus watched Derrie back away from him, eyes wide and furious. He knew if he touched her now, she'd lose it entirely. He wasn't even sure it was wise to talk to her in this state, but he had to.

"You don't understand. Come with me, let me talk to you, please."

"So you can twist it all around and you'll come out looking like the victim here? No, Magnus. No more."

"Ten minutes. Is that so much to ask?"

"It is now. Joe was right. So I've got a plate of crow to eat, don't I?" She spun on her heel and was gone before he could say any more.

_Fucking hell_. Things had been strained between them for the past couple of months; the end of the MEM had left them struggling for and often failing to find excuses to be together. And still she'd been determined to keep things quiet; they wouldn't have _needed_ excuses if she'd only let go of that foolishness. That she wouldn't hadn't been doing his ego any favors, either.

He'd intended to tell her about the deal he'd made with Dixie, about how the title match with Hardy was to end. He knew that was a risk; she might be his woman, her struggles against that notwithstanding, but she was still Joe's cousin, as well. He hadn't wanted it to be a shock to her, no matter the risks of that, but there simply hadn't been time. For sex or for a private talk, it made no difference; time alone had become difficult to arrange.

_It's time to make it a lot more simple. You're not going to just walk away from me, woman._ He had no idea what he was going to do about it, but he was going to do something; whatever other problems they'd been having, the sex was still too good to let go so easily.

"Why the glum face? You're the champ! This is a celebration!"

The boss was not exactly what he needed at the moment, but he plastered what he hoped was a celebratory expression on his face. "Not glum. Just lost in thought for a moment."

"Well, good! Have a drink."

Now, there was a thought. He accepted the beer she handed him out of a tub of ice, and tried not to cringe as he took a drink of it. _Bloody canoe beer._

"There, now that's better. My champion should have anything he wants, right? Speaking of which, we _did_ discuss a bonus if you made this work smoothly, and you really did that. Have you thought about what you want?"

And just like that, the answer struck him. "I have. But what I'd like may be a bit...complicated to acquire." He didn't like telling her, but he had to if anything was to be accomplished. He liked the slow smile that spread over Dixie's face even less.

"Oh, I think we can arrange that. But can you keep her behaving herself? We don't need the trouble if she decides to go screaming to someone for help."

"She'll mind what I tell her. I know how to make certain of that."

Dixie suddenly looked very, very interested. A bit too interested, actually. "Oh? From experience?"

_That_ was none of her bloody business. "From observation. She needs a bit of firm handling. I look forward to providing it."

"Mmm, I'll bet that would be a sight to see. I don't think we'll have any real problem with getting your bonus to you. You be sure and enjoy it now, hear?"

He intended to.

It took four days to get the text he was waiting for: _You'll find your bonus in your room, probably sleepy for a few more hours._

_But unharmed?_

_Completely. Any bruises on her will come from you. I thought you'd want it that way._

Well, yes, more or less. He surely didn't want anyone else bruising her.

She wasn't just sleepy when he got to his room; she was out like a snuffed candle. And it was still tempting, wasn't it? God, yes. The ultimate act of submission, total helplessness. Anything he wanted.

Magnus muttered a curse and sat in a chair across the room from the bed Derrie had been dumped on. And handcuffed to, he now saw.

_Where is the key for the manacles?_

It took a few minutes, but Dixie did get back to him. _Top drawer in the bathroom. Sure you want to take them off, big guy?_

_She's out of position for what I intend._

That seemed to satisfy Dixie's curiosity. Magnus went and got the key, pausing to lock all the various night locks and safety catches on the room door. If Derrie chose to bolt, it would be more than enough to slow her down until he got to her. He took off the cuff, which had left an inflamed ring around her wrist, and settled her into a less awkward position on the bed. They'd apparently thrown her on the bed, then restrained her where she fell.

Feeling her so helpless in his hands had done its work; it was no longer a question of temptation. He was hard and aching to fuck her. And she was his now, willingly or not.

He thought there might be some willingness left in her; she hadn't entirely stopped coming to him in the past couple of months. It might not be quite enough willingness to cover her waking to find his cock buried in her, though. He considered the handcuffs for a moment, then her clothes.

She tended to drown herself in shirts; three or four sizes too big was her norm. The baseball jersey she was wearing was a fine example of that. It drove him half mad, but it was something she wouldn't give in to him on.

_That's going to change._ He peeled the shirt off, then her bra, and threw them aside. He raised her hands above her head and secured both there, careful to leave the cuffs loose enough that they didn't bite at her skin any further.

For a while looking was enough. The room was chilly, and the touch of cool air on her nipples was enough to harden them as he watched. _So sensitive._ She'd always been; he remembered spending a night holding her down and making her orgasm again and again with fingers and tongue on her nipples and nothing more. God, she'd struggled and protested - cried from sheer frustration at one point - but she came a dozen times before he'd finally not been able to stand it any longer and had fucked her, quick and rough and so bloody good.

Enough watching. He peeled off her jeans and knickers in a single sweep and threw them where her upper garments had gone. His own clothes followed. He could feel every throb of his pulse surging through his cock as he spread her legs, pushed a pillow under her backside, and moved over her.

_This is rape. Do you really want to take it this far? Really?_

He did. Badly. He ran his fingertip along the tight little cleft he'd enjoyed so thoroughly. She was wet, no doubt from the play of the air on her nipples. And it would only be rape until she woke, wouldn't it? She'd submit to it then, and any question would be gone.

The sweet tightness around him was good; it was always good. The total lack of response, not so much. _Not enough of the necrophiliac in you after all, is there?_ He was thinking about making a fuck-toy of her, just letting the slick friction of her get him off and saving the rest for another time, when she stirred under him. The surge of lust that sent through him startled him. He was fucking her hard, enough so to make her bounce back up into each thrust, when she opened her eyes.

He would have sworn that for just a moment something in her eyes softened. _You've missed it, too, haven't you? When it's good like this..._

She screamed. He barely got his hand up in time to smother most of it. He would have sworn he actually got harder inside her as she fought him, twisting, bucking, and kicking. She couldn't do much other than kick the backs of his legs, but she went at that with a vengeance for a while. She knew she was utterly overmatched, though. Even without the cuffs, he could overpower her without trying; with them, she was helpless.

She went limp under him, eyes closed, waiting for him to finish. That wasn't what he wanted, and she bloody well knew it. He took his hand off her mouth and smacked her cheek with the tips of his fingers - not a slap, but enough to get her full attention and make her open her eyes again.

"Don't play the pitiful victim with me, Derrie. You've come twice since you woke. Do you think I didn't feel it? Things are going to change, starting with the pretending." He drove into her hard enough to make her cry out in protest...but she didn't scream or struggle. Or ask him to stop. "You like a good, hard fucking, don't you, pet? And you bloody _love_ it from me. Say it." When she hesitated, he slid his hands under her and started pulling her up into each pounding thrust, crazed with the tiny mewing sounds she was making. "_Say_ it."

"Please...Magnus, oh God, please..."

"Louder. Tell them all how you love it."

"No, don't, please..."

"Now. Do it. You know I can make you sorry for disobeying, don't you?"

She didn't just start shouting, but he didn't expect that. As he goaded her toward another orgasm, driving it from her with his cock, she built up from inarticulate sounds of pleasure, to words, and finally to cries everyone on that floor of the hotel had to be able to hear - pleas for more, promises of any pleasure he wanted, assertions of how much she needed it.

"They know, pet. They know I'm fucking you, and how much you love it. When they look at you, they'll all be thinking about it, about how much you love my cock in you."

She moaned as if the idea distressed her; given her shyness, it probably did, a great deal. But she didn't stop letting them all know what he was doing and how it felt.

As far as he was concerned, it felt fucking wonderful. He'd missed it being good this way; quality had declined with quantity over the past couple of months. But this...She was still angry; he could see it at the back of her eyes, peering out at him around the sex-daze that was overtaking her. And still she was running one foot up and down his leg, desperate to touch him in return in spite of her bound hands. This was definitely not the last time he'd restrain her before he had her, of that there was no doubt.

She was nearly to that place, the one that lived behind that dazed, sleepy look she got when it was unbearably good, when she shut down because she couldn't absorb any more sensation. Just before she got there was the moment he wanted; he knew that from experience.

"If you ever walk away from me the way you did last week, pet, I'm going to settle you so you can't walk for a week. Do you understand?"

His voice was gentle, almost tender, but she knew better. She nodded.

He popped his fingertips against her cheek again. "Answer."

"I understand. Please..."

"Hush. I'm not through. I'm going to take these restraints off when I'm done with you. You're not going to leave this room without asking permission."

"No, I promise. Oh God..."

It would do for now. She'd had her warning and the first order of their new way of being together. He felt like he was going to explode. He went deep, grinding into her, knowing she could feel every pulse as he filled her. It was the last act of submission: _Give yourself entirely. Take it into you, all of it. It's what you're for._

She tried to curl into him the way she did when she needed comfort after surrendering her will so utterly. The restraints were preventing it; she moaned softly and pulled at them.

"Shh, pet." He reached over, fished the key off the table where he'd left it, and freed her. She immediately did her best to get inside his skin with him. Yes, she'd be here when he woke. He had no doubt of it.


	3. Conflict

Magnus woke to find Derrie still in the room, as he knew she'd be, but sitting tucked up in a chair across the room watching him sleep. She hadn't bothered to dress; he'd noticed early on that if a session was especially intense, she was much less prone to hiding her body, at least for a few hours.

"It's cold in here, pet. Come back to bed."

She just shook her head, watching him narrowly though those lovely and disturbing hazel eyes.

"Ah, let's not play at this. I'm comfortable. I don't want to get up and drag your arse back to bed, lovely though it is. _Get back here_."

She got up, still giving him that wary look, and got back in bed with him.

"Now, was that so difficult? It doesn't have to be. I prefer things to go easily with us. So if they go otherwise, that can only mean you've decided to be troublesome, right?"

She said nothing.

_Marvelous_. "Still angry with me, pet? Or angry with yourself for enjoying it so thoroughly?"

"You never answered my question."

"Which one was that?"

"How could you do it? You betrayed us, all of us. Including me. Not that that matters if I'll still fuck on command, right?"

Ah, so there it was. "Don't fret over my professional decisions, Derrie. And don't judge them. It isn't your place."

"My _what_?" She nearly spit the words out as she started to sit up.

Magnus grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. When she fought him, he grabbed a handful of her hair close to her scalp - not pulling, just holding, until she stopped struggling. He shifted his other hand down and pulled her tight against him. "_This_ is your place. If you'd take it willingly, I wouldn't have to keep putting you in it."

"So I should ignore all the lies, forget all the betrayal, and just shut up and spread my legs." She was near tears; he didn't think she realized it.

"I never lied to you. Never. As for betrayal...Who did I betray other than Hardy? Never mind that he didn't trust me enough for me to be able to betray him in the first place. He made his choices, and he lost the match as a direct result. That's all. And none of it has the first thing to do with us, so you can stop being ashamed of wanting me." He smiled. "You should get over that quickly, pet. It's no secret any longer."

She shifted, closer to him this time instead of away. "I have to talk to Joe."

"I know, pet. And if you thought I wasn't his favorite person _last_ week..."

"I'll work it out with him somehow."

"Then you've decided to stay?"

She looked up at him, surprise in her eyes. "Are you trying to tell me I have a choice?"

"You do. So long as you do what you want, not what other people tell you to want. Let them talk you into leaving me and I'll take you back from them. However I have to. Don't forget that."

"No one's going to talk me into anything." She'd wiggled a hand in between them and was running her nails lightly over his skin from collarbone to waist and back again. _Even if that means you're all I've got._

* * *

Joe looked like he was about to start breathing fire. "How long? How long has he been fucking you?"

Fine; if he wanted to put it that way, he could. There wasn't much use arguing semantics. "Three months. Almost four."

"I should have known. You were just waiting for someone like that to come along and charm your panties off. Well, that's over. And you're going home. I should never have brought you here."

"It's not over and I'm not leaving. I'm old enough to pick my own friends, Joe."

"Friends? Is that what you call it? A dozen people have dropped by this morning to let me know they heard you screaming and begging for his cock all night. Some friend."

"Fine. I'm old enough to pick my own lovers, too." She looked away abruptly. It was never easy to talk about these things with him. "He gives me what I need, Joe. He understands."

"Which I still don't." His tone was more gentle now. "But I don't have to, do I? He does. I really should have known someone broke into you. You were happy all of a sudden. You haven't been for a long time. And he did that."

She nodded.

"All right, then. I'll mind my own business. Do you think I _like_ seeing you unhappy? But can you handle what's coming? If AJ can't get it done, I'm going to tear his head off and take that belt."

She wasn't so sure of that, but she did occasionally know when to keep her mouth shut.

Joe laughed. "Prudent silence. Just...if you need to come home, you can. You always can."

She flung her arms around him and hugged hard. She thought it might be a while before she got to do that again.

* * *

AJ didn't get the job done. _How_ he didn't, Derrie watched with mingled horror and resignation. She saw a lot of the same pair of emotions in Magnus' eyes; she doubted anyone else noticed.

He said almost nothing on the drive back to the hotel. She didn't try to fill the silence.

She waited until he was done showering; she couldn't take any more than that. "Are you all right? Is there something I can do?"

"I didn't _need_ them, damn it."

"I know. And so does she. I thought she might do something. Not that, maybe, but something to remind you that she's the boss and she has all the strings in her hand. If it _looks_ like you need them, that's good enough for her."

"You...have no idea how humiliating it was to have that happen in front of you."

"Mmm...I think maybe there _is_ something I can do." He reached for her and she stepped neatly out of his reach. "Shh. Let me."

She'd never behaved remotely like this before. He was curious where it might lead. "All right, pet. It's your play."

She sat on his lap, smiling. "Close your eyes."

He did. She responded by putting a delicate kiss on each eyelid. She worked her way down from there, unbuttoning, uncovering, caressing, kissing, chewing. He was positive she'd tasted every bit of him from neck to waist when she finally knelt in front of him. It had taken her nearly an hour to get there, and he was hard as stone and in an agony of need.

And still she took her time, running her fingernails over him through his jeans until he thought he would just go mad with the sensation. When she finally freed his cock and began lazily, almost contemplatively stroking it, he was growling and cursing in a steady stream.

"If Dixie kisses you again, can I kill her?"

The question stunned him out of cursing, almost into laughter. "Jealous, pet?" He smiled, every bit the cat in the cream. "I rather like it on you if this is what it does. But you can't kill the boss."

"Guess I'll just have to give you a better kiss, then." She bent and sucked the head and the first three inches of his cock shaft into her mouth. Aching quickly turned to shuddering pleasure. All the teasing, and now this; he wasn't going to be able to hold out long.

She didn't seem to expect him to. On her third try, she swallowed all of him; from there, she went after him urgently. The sensation of her of lips brushing against him each time she swallowed him to the root was driving him wild. It might even have been a string of kisses.

That thought was what did it. He groaned a warning to her, but she only pulled back far enough to make sure he came in her mouth rather than down her throat. She locked eyes with him as she swallowed it.

He tried to raise her to the bed; there was one thing he couldn't do for her just now, but there were others, weren't there? She shook her head fiercely, then rested it in his lap, sinking to something closer to a sitting position at his feet.

He stroked her hair, pleasure-dazed and astonished. _I'll kill anyone who tries to take you from me, pet. Fucking gut them and hand their innards to them to hold while they die._


	4. Recognition

It hadn't been so bad for Magnus, sending AJ packing. They'd never been anything like close, even during AJ's stint in MEM. But this...this was going to be a long night for him. Sting he _had_ been friends with. And he was going to be presiding over the man being screwed out of his job.

It would have been easier in some ways to have been left to beat the man cleanly. At least that would have had some kind of honor in it. But he knew damned well he wasn't going to be left to his own devices. It was an ugly thought, but one he had to face before he hit the ring tonight: Dixie had chosen him not because she felt he could hold on to the title on his own merits, but because she saw him as pragmatic enough to not care how he did it.

Last month he'd have agreed with her; prestige and money were their own rewards, after all. Now, he wasn't so sure. It galled him that Dixie so obviously had no faith in him, and even more that her machinations were making him look like he really wasn't worthy of faith.

And it galled him that this was all playing out in front of Derrie. Oh, yes, that galled him most of all. She said she didn't care about what she cheerfully called "all of Dixie's bullshit," and he believed her. But he did care. A great deal.

_You bought this, didn't you? And now you're paying._ And that was the rub: He could choke down his pride yet again, or go into Dixie's office and drop the title on her desk. There was no middle ground to be had.

He expected this to be rough for Derrie, too; she liked Sting, and he'd always been one of very few people her shyness didn't wall her off from. He wasn't surprised when he didn't have to tell her to wait at the hotel; she didn't want to be anywhere near it.

When the debacle was done, the title belt back on his shoulder, and Sting's contract in shreds over the man's unmoving carcass, Magnus found his first thought wasn't for any of those things. His mind was already back at the hotel, the night being washed away in the eager warmth of the woman waiting there for him. All he wanted was to get his body there, too.

_She's become a bit of an addiction, hasn't she?_ he thought as he threw his gear in the back of his rental car. _That may not be so good a thing._

But it was good, that was the thing. And not just the sex, though that would have been more than enough on its own. It would be so easy to let the slime tide Dixie had set rolling just carry him along with it: Collect the money, strangle the vestiges of his pride, not care. But waiting for him at the hotel wasn't just a marvelous lay, but a reason to not give in to all that.

He wanted her to be proud of him, of being with him. That couldn't be as things were, but he could at least hang on to the last few threads of what would keep her from being ashamed. Someday the chance might come to make the rest up to her.

_Holy hell_, he thought, smiling for the first time tonight. _I think I want to be her hero_.

He opened the door of their room to find Derrie sitting on the edge of the bed, limned by the light of a single candle on the bedside table, legs demurely crossed at the ankle, and stark naked. "I sure am glad you're not Housekeeping. Why don't you put that little sign on the door?"

He thought that was an excellent idea.

"Hard day at the office?"

He dropped his gear right where he was standing. He wasn't entirely sure the thud he heard wasn't his brain hitting the floor. "Yes, that's one way to put it."

"Come here and give me a hard night, then."

"Oh fucking God, woman..." He took two controlled steps, then just lunged for her.

He tumbled her back on the bed, pinning her there with his weight, hungry to just take her and lose himself in it. It was her reaction that changed his intentions, her hands stroking him, caressing his back and shoulders as she whispered to him to do what he wanted, whatever he wanted.

"Oh? Anything at all?"

"Yes, please, baby. Anything. Everything."

He shifted back so he could see her fully. "Spread your legs. Show yourself to me."

She blushed. He was certain he'd done everything a man could do to a woman short of actually damaging her, but she was still shy about showing him her body at the start. It was the reason he'd been so astonished to find her naked; she'd never done anything like it before.

She parted her legs. Barely.

"Anything, you said. Spread yourself. Put your feet on the posts of the footboard."

She flinched, but did as she was told. The bed was wide, the footboard a little wider then the mattress; she had to be at the limits of comfort, spread wide enough now to part her outer lips a bit. He could see she was wet.

"Keep them there, or I'll tie them down." He moved to sit next to her at knee-level here he could get a nice, thorough look. She whimpered, and when he looked up, it was to find her eyes tightly closed. "No. Open your eyes. Watch me looking at you."

She did as he said, but it wasn't hard to see she didn't like it.

"You're lovely. I don't understand this in you." He ran his fingertips along the moist cleft, enjoying her moan of pleasure and the lips parting further to his touch. She was very ready for him. "I believe I'd like a closer look."

He bent and followed the path his fingers had just taken with his tongue. She shuddered and made a sound that seemed to be entirely vowels; her legs jolted, but her feet stayed where they were.

"Mmm, good girl." He thought stopping teasing was an appropriate reward. He moved between her legs, catching them in his arms to keep them parted, and went at her with intent, licking, nipping, sucking. He loved her sounds when she came - broken bits of words tinted with a stronger accent than when she spoke, and strange to him; the little mewing sounds he'd mistaken for cries of pain the first time; a low, moaning sound almost like a negation, a denial. He craved that last; it was the sound of the last barrier falling, of her giving in entirely to his pleasure, and to her own.

The third time she came, she reached up and clutched at the headboard and tried to pull herself away, overloading on sensation. He laughed and pulled her roughly back down and got her off again. That always pushed him past his self-control, forcing her to accept pleasure.

He didn't want to take the time to muck about with his clothes; he opened his jeans, freed himself, and moved up over her, arms still around her legs so he carried them along. She watched wide-eyed as he lifted her ankles to his shoulders and shifted so he could enter her. He went deeper into her than he ever had before, and her eyes widened further still. He quickly found that holding onto her legs again gave him more leverage. A great deal more. She wasn't fussing at him to stop any more, either.

She wasn't prone to being very loud unless he forced or ordered it from her, but this seemed to inspire her to new heights. She was quiet again as he finished, glassy-eyed and smiling dreamily up at him, her hand cupped against his face.

Yes, it was good to be wanted for what he could do. Maybe the best thing possible.


	5. Falling Action

If there was one perk of being champion that Magnus has grown to appreciate, it was having a private dressing room. For the past several weeks, he hadn't really wanted to see anyone, let alone have to talk to them. Tonight that was quadrupled, at the very least.

Derrie sitting there waiting for him was a bonus he hadn't explored for obvious reasons, but there she was, never mind that he'd left her tucked away at the hotel. "What's this, then?"

"I thought I'd better face up to it. I mean, I knew it would happen eventually; I just thought there'd be more time, I guess."

"You shouldn't have come here, flower. I know it's not easy for you. I don't expect you to act as if it is."

She got up and nuzzled into him. "If you're holding back for my sake, don't. I know what's at stake. And Joe's not going to hold back."

"So I've noticed. What makes you think I'm holding back?"

She gave him a _Don't bullshit me_ look that he found quite fetching. "You were going to let Dixie's goon squad take care of it, weren't you?"

That had been the idea; for the first time, he'd actually been looking forward to their interference. Quick, easy, and less suffering through an actual match for Derrie. Count on the boss to withdraw her support at the crucial moment.

"She's testing you."

He nodded. Sting hadn't been easy, but this was a step beyond that. Never mind that Joe was dangerous; they'd been friends. And the message was simple, wasn't it: _Prove your loyalty. Take care of this._ It would surely have been easier if Dixie had bailed out on him a bit sooner and given him time to come up with a decent back-up plan. But it wasn't about making it easier.

"Do what you have to. As long as you don't do more than you have to, I'll be all right." She pressed closer to him. "I shouldn't be a consideration in it, anyway. I made my choice. I knew what it was going to mean."

She let him know, in the way she had, that if he wanted it right there and then, it was his for the having. The private shower stall was tempting, but he had something else in mind, something that wanted at least a bit better surroundings.

She was quiet on the way back to the hotel, a fretful look in her eyes he'd seen before. He was certain that what he had in mind was exactly what she needed to set her right again.

He waited until they were in the room. While she went over to the window to close the curtains, he locked all three of the locks on the door. It was possible she'd try to get away from him when she realized what he meant to do to her. "Come here."

She did, silently but promptly. The little demonstration of obedience traveled his nerves like electricity. His cock gave an impatient twitch and started hardening quickly enough to be a bit painful. That was all right; she was going to soothe all that tension away.

"Good girl. Now, tell me what's troubling you."

She shook her head, suddenly not meeting his gaze.

He grabbed her hair and yanked her to her knees. "When I tell you to do something, pet, you don't tell me no. Not ever. I've been too lax with you. Tell me what's wrong. Now."

And still she hesitated. He used the handful of hair he was still clutching to drag her over to the bed. "Strip off. I'll be back. Be done by the time I am."

He knew he wasn't going to find what he wanted in the bathroom cabinet, but he hoped to find at least an acceptable substitute. He hadn't planned ahead for this at all, but there was no backing down now; if he did, it would validate for her what he suspected was eating at her. It needed laying to rest. Tonight. Win or lose Sunday, it was the tough, passionate woman he knew that he would need sharing his bed, not this frightened shadow of her.

Lotion. It wasn't a good substitute, but it was as much of one as he was going to find.

She was naked when he returned to her, eyes downcast and body turned partly away from the light of the bedside lamp. She'd gone back to her knees when she was through undressing. For a moment, he was simply robbed of breath.

"Get up."

She looked surprised, but did as she was told. The moment she was on her feet, he flung her face-down on the bed, then raised her to her knees, her upper body still flat on the mattress.

"Spread. Then stay that way."

She did. He could see her trembling.

He shed his clothes as quickly as he could. He was absolutely aching for it now. He popped the cap on the lotion and began spreading it over his cock.

"You keep saying you're mine. All of you. But that isn't quite true, is it? There's one thing you've refused me." Technically, that wasn't so; she couldn't refuse what he'd never asked of her. He didn't think she would argue the point, especially not after he got started. "You refuse me _nothing_. Do you understand?"

She was shaking even harder now. "Please don't. Anything else you want, I swear, anything."

"You've given everything else to me, haven't you? Only this is left. The only thing you're _still_ saying no to." He grabbed her hips roughly, forcing her to stay still as she tried to twist and buck away from him. "It's going to be worse if you fight. Isn't everything?"

He didn't take her roughly; she shrieked anyway when the head of his cock pried its way into her ass. But she shrieked into the mattress. It was all he needed to know. He buried his whole length in her in one long, slow stroke. Christ, she was tight! If she didn't give in quickly, they were going to have to go through it all again. He paused, holding her perfectly still, letting her get used to the invasion. She was still saying no, even as she surrendered to it. All right, then.

"Shut up and take it." He started thrusting, slowly at first, but more urgently as her sounds began turning from pain to pleasure.

"You like it." God knew _he_ did.

"No, no, I hate it, stop!"

"Don't lie to me, pet. You want never to do that. You like it."

"Yes..." There was a despairing sound to her voice. She might like the fucking she was taking, but she didn't like admitting it, not even a little.

"Say it. Tell me what you like."

"Please, no..."

"What did I tell you about that word?" He pulled back and drove in with a rougher thrust.

"OW! I like your cock in my ass, please...That _hurts_."

"You like the pain. Taking it for me."

"Yes..." That despairing edge was fading now.

_Good. So close, darling._ "You're mine. All of you. Everything I want."

"Yes, Magnus, yes."

He pushed deep into her, all the way to the hilt. "Everything. So you love me. That's mine, too."

The sounds she was making were far more pleasure than pain now, but she was trembling so hard it was nearly shuddering.

"Say it, darling. You want to, I know it. Say it. Tell me."

She shook her head fiercely.

"Don't be afraid. We _must_ be far beyond that stage now. If it's so, tell me it is." He was moving more easily in her now, gently, finding what gave her pleasure in this. The sounds she was making were driving him mad.

"You _know_ I do." There was a trace of tears in her voice. He was pushing her to a limit that had nothing to do any more with what he was doing to her physically.

"Then it shouldn't be so hard to say it."

"I do. I love you, so much, so much."

He took a firm grip on her and turned onto his back, carrying her along. She gave a choked cry - pain, pleasure, he couldn't say what else - as the angle changed and her own weight drove him in deep. "That's a good girl. So good..." His hand slipped over her thigh, two fingers working into her as his thumb found her clit, grinding and circling. It took less than thirty seconds; he held her still against him so she wouldn't hurt herself thrashing and twisting. What little movement she could manage was enough to push him over the edge with her.

When he could manage it, he turned them onto their sides, withdrew gently, and pulled her back to nestle into him.

"Now you're mine. _All_ of you. Never forget it. Don't doubt how I need you, flower. You have no idea. And if you ever think of leaving me again..."

She tried to turn to look at him, but he had her pinned against him too tightly. "How did you know?"

"It follows. You're worried about stopping me from what I have to do. I know how you think. Leaving isn't getting out of my way, darling. It's putting a knife in me. Is that what you want?"

"_No_, God no."

"You've changed your mind about that, then?"

She tensed against him; for a moment he was sure she'd try to break away and run. It was for this he'd locked the door so securely. "When did you know?"

"Almost immediately. You'd not sell out your family for anything. I'm not so much an egomaniac as to think I'd be an exception. You thought to weaken my resolve, didn't you? To give Joe an advantage?"

She nodded.

"Does he know you've been scheming?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. I can't imagine him letting you do that. And when did you change your mind?"

"I don't know. I just realized one day that I'd stopped. I couldn't go through with it."

"Because you love me."

"Yes. I know you -"

"Don't tell me how I feel." He smiled, knowing she couldn't see it. "That's for me to do to you, isn't it? You're mine. Do you need more than that?"

She didn't. If the words weren't there, even if the feeling wasn't there, being his was enough. It had to be.


	6. Excursus

Later, he held her as she slept.

_You're mine now, flower. Body, soul, everything. I've done all a man can do to a woman while you begged for more. I've broken your will to betray me and punished the attempt. I've made you admit to loving me. And I still don't fucking know your name._

He was near to dozing off himself. He'd never known fucking a confession out of a woman, and then a punishment into her, could be so completely relaxing. She'd need more correction, probably quite a bit of it for a while, until she adjusted to her new role. But that was for later. He'd enjoy it, too.

He caught it at the edge of his vision as his eyes were slipping closed. His eyes snapped open. _Add being an idiot to the things you've done._ He untangled one arm and reached across her carefully, hooking the strap of her purse on his fingers and lifting it from the bedside table.

It didn't take much fishing; the driving license he pulled from her wallet was Canadian, with an address in New Brunswick. She'd strayed a good bit from home on her way to him. The name on it was Lavender Marielle LeJeune.

"It was pretty cool being raised by parents with a sense of humor," she said softly. "All except for that."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to watch you dig through my purse."

"It's not so unreasonable I'd like to know your name, is it?"

"I guess not. And now you do, God help you."

"Is there...an explanation for it?"

"Drugs." She smiled at the burst of laughter that pulled from him. "They named me for a song, in the best displaced-hippie tradition."

"Oh?"

Her voice was clear, sweet, and a bit shaky. "Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green..."

He smiled. "When I am King, dilly dilly, you will be Queen."

"I didn't think anyone remembered it."

"Well, this does explain one thing."

"What?"

"Why you sound like you're singing 'The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' every time you come."

She stared at him drop-jawed for a good five seconds, then exploded into laughter.


	7. Deus ex Machina

"I _told_ you I don't know how to use one of these." Derrie sighed and put down the camera. "I'm pretty sure I made about half of that not make sense."

"Not to worry. The one who needs to understand it will."

"It's a shame this isn't the time for you to show me where else you've got it."

"Insatiable little thing, aren't you?" He pulled her down onto his lap. No, this wasn't the time to give her what she was needing, but it was a temptation.

"I don't have to tell myself I don't want it any more. You...ended that." She was looking at the floor, her voice barely a murmur.

"I don't want you to hide your needs, love. Whatever they may be." He smiled and slid his hand up her thigh and under her skirt. "Those belong to me as well, don't they? Just as this does." His fingers found her wet and hot, even through the bit of silky stuff in his way.

"Yes. Oh God, Magnus, that's so good."

He laughed softly and pushed two fingers under the legband of her panties and into her. "Like that better, darling?"

"Please, please..." She was almost dancing against his fingers, head back, eyes half-lidded. He let her control the ride, let her show him her need. This was hers.

She came, almost purring with pleasure, her mouth finding his eagerly, moaning against his lips. "Good, oh good, so good."

"I want you to do something for me, darling."

"Anything."

"Go back to the hotel. And wait for me there. No matter what happens tonight, wait for me."

"Magnus, what - ?"

"Don't ask. Just promise me you'll wait."

"I promise."

He kissed her and made it count. Something in his gut as he watched her drive away screamed at him to call her back before it was too late.

She was gone when he got back. All that was left was a trace of her scent in the air and a note.

_I'm sorry I lied about waiting. I wasn't when I said it. I love you, but I can't watch you do this to yourself any more. _

He wanted a drink, but there was no way in hell he was going down to the bar. It was what they made room service for. He ordered a bottle and set out to see how much of it he could get down him before he passed out. The answer turned out to be about 3/4. In the fog of the next morning, he was sure he could do better.

* * *

It took three weeks to work his way up to 7/8 of a bottle and counting. He kept it carefully in its cage in spite of that; as far as he could tell, everyone thought everything was fine with him. He didn't touch a drop until after business was done for the day. It was after, alone in his hotel room, when he needed it. It numbed everything.

Numbness was no doubt why it took half a dozen backhand strikes to wake him, and a good 15 seconds after that to react. He lashed out in the direction of the strikes, but whoever it was dodged easily. It took a couple of tries to get his eyes to focus and send the right signal to his brain: Joe was standing there, looking pissed as a bear.

"You can drink your sorry ass to death for all I care, but this is killing her, and I _do_ care about that. Maybe don't show up fucking shitfaced, huh?" Joe flicked a folded piece of paper at him and walked out.

There was an address on the paper. It took him a few seconds to put it together; he'd thought Derrie must be with Joe, or gone back to his family. She'd gone back to her own, apparently.

* * *

He thought about having a drink while waiting to board the plane, but that felt like a bad idea in nearly every possible way. It hadn't helped, not for any meaningful length of time, and he thought he would need to have his wits about him for what was coming. He didn't expect Derrie to be even a little happy to see him. He held on to a small bit of hope, true, but no expectation.

To fill the time a bit more constructively, he decided to try getting an answer to a question that had been troubling him since he'd sobered up enough to wonder.

_It strikes me that you're not very happy she's gone back to where she comes from._

He was fully prepared for Joe to not answer, and he'd waited long enough to think that was going to be the case when the response came through. _I'm not. She didn't talk much about it, but I got the idea she felt really trapped there._

_She's not going to be eager to see me. Maybe you should go to fetch her back._

_She isn't in love with me._

_I'm not so sure she is with me any longer, either._

_She wouldn't be punishing herself for leaving if she wasn't._

The place certainly didn't look like a punishment or a trap. It took him about an hour to find the town, which was tiny, quite lovely, and set on the edge of the ocean. It looked to be almost entirely a fishing community; he passed two processing plants on his way in, wondering vaguely if she'd worked at one or the other of them. Surely a job like that would feel like a trap to her, with that mind keyed to just about anything other than manual drudgery.

He'd had to ask directions twice in spite of the small size of the place, and was met with wariness both times, though he was given directions eventually. He suspected Derrie would know he was coming well before he arrived.

He found her in the yard of a tiny house about four blocks inland. She was playing with a little girl of maybe six or seven.

"We got _company_!" The girl was making for the fence around the yard at a breakneck run as Magnus got out of the car.

"Jess, come here."

The girl went, but she went complaining every step. "I wanna see the _company_."

"Maybe later. He won't be here long. Go on inside, Jess-bird. Tell Gran it's okay."

The little girl gave Derrie one last rueful look, smiled at Magnus, and darted off.

"Don't flip. She's my niece."

"The math did seem wrong. How are you?"

"All right. You could have called to ask me that."

"Derrie, don't be like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you don't miss me as much as I do you."

"Miss you? Yeah, I do. And when you find you again, come on back. I'll be waiting. What else can I do?"

"Derrie, I've not lost myself. I'm here in front of you."

"The man I love isn't. He would have taken the chance to be free and won or lost that match himself. You found someone else to do your work for you. You don't have any faith in yourself any more. What do you expect me to have?"

"Patience. Trust. And some faith too, yes. I know what I'm doing. Did you consider that before you walked out on me? I'd have explained; that's why I asked you to wait for me. To trust me. And you didn't."

"Why didn't you explain _before_? Why didn't you tell me? You have to trust me, too, at least a little."

"Ah, hell. Flower, I do trust you. I told you I don't want you questioning my professional decisions. You never thought to ask why, did you?"

"I thought that wasn't my _place_, either."

He'd been closing the distance between them gradually. Now he was close enough to take hold of her. He pulled her in, folding her into his arms and pinning her tight against him. "I didn't want you to fret, just as you're doing now. I wanted you happy, so you could go on keeping me sane. Don't you know how much you do that? That's your place. This is your place, this."

He felt more than heard her sigh as she settled against him, fingers digging into his ribs. "I missed you, baby. So much."

"Do you remember what I told you I'd do if you walked away from me again?"

She tilted her head back, eyes hungry. "Oh, God yes. But not in my grandmother's house."

"Even I have my limits." He smiled. "I also have a hotel room. Tell her you'll be back in the morning."


	8. Resolution

They had a week, and he was curious; Derrie had spoken almost not at all about her origins. "Show me the town, pet."

"Sure. But what will we do with the 23 hours and 45 minutes left in the day?"

It wasn't quite that bad, but it _was_ a very small town, that wasn't to be denied. Its best feature was the view, and that was best seen from outside town. And from on a hill, apparently. Derrie was laughing as she grabbed his hand and teased and coaxed and pulled until he made the climb with her.

It _was_ a lovely view, he had to admit. The sensation of her fingers trailing down his spine was quite lovely, as well.

"This was the big make-out spot. Probably still is."

"Oh?" He pulled her up against him, smiling. "And did you come up here often? Are there old boyfriends I should meet?"

"I never came up here."

"Never? Not once?"

She shook her head, color high in her cheeks. "There was always something, you know? School, work, Jess to take care of. It was easier to just not bother with the whole dating thing."

"So you're saying you were a good girl. And I came along and corrupted you terribly." He slid his hands down her, pulling her up and grinding her against him until she started doing it herself. "Taught you to enjoy what your body to can do for you. And what it can do for me."

She wiggled and twisted against him. "Magnus, the whole town can see us up here."

"Are you ashamed?"

She could hear a hurt edge in his voice, see it in his eyes. _I put that there. Baby, I'm so sorry._ "I'm not ashamed. _Let_ them see. Let them all see."

She went to her knees; he thought that must hurt, given they were on top of a huge stone. He felt like that was what she was freeing from his trousers, as well. "That's it, darling. Show them what a lucky man I am."

It was hard to read the look in her eyes when she turned them up to him. "Forgive me. Please."

He smiled. "Earn it, pet."

She did, in about the first ten seconds. All the rest was a lovely bonus.

They could see from the village, he realized. Not well enough to identify them directly, but it wouldn't be that much of a challenge to figure out, would it?

_Figure it out and be damned, then. Whatever you thought she should be, I took her from you, didn't I? She's mine now, and she was never yours._

Along with the other enticing sounds she was making, he was hearing tiny, contented sighs, almost as if she could hear the run of his thoughts. He shifted so he could give her one of his legs to ride. She moaned softly, grinding against it without missing in the slightest her rhythm at what she was doing to him. He let his head fall back, enjoying the sun on his face and the maddening and delicate caress of her mouth on his cock.

She was moving against his leg hard enough to stagger him now; he had to plant his feet to keep from going over backwards. She turned her eyes up to his again as she came. For that moment, all he saw was uncomplicated love and desire in them. Nothing else mattered - not business, not her snarl of family entanglements, not anyone's opinion about anything. They were alone in the world up here, out of the reach of all of it. He groaned, stroking her hair as he came, as she drank every drop eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to keep that look in her eyes permanently.

That wasn't going to be easy. He could see how torn she was by being here. She wanted her family, but she also wanted to be as far away from this place as she could get. The strain of contradicting desires was doing what it inevitably did - tearing her in two. He did his best to hold her together, in the ways she held him together.

She seemed startled by this sudden bout of gentleness in him, but she fell into it readily, wrapped it around her the way he'd been hoping she would. The day before they left, he realized he didn't want to go back to the way it had been before, that they'd be taking that at least away from here with them. Oh, she was still his, but he didn't think he'd need to remind her of it any more, and he didn't want to have to.

When they'd been back to their routine for a week, he realized there was one thing he _did_ want: He wanted to take her home, to _his_ home, where maybe she could come to understand the things that drove him. He wanted to lay her down on a shore at the other side of the ocean that had shaped her and see what she learned from it there. All of that would have to wait; he was far from free to go haring off again so quickly. But the time would come.


End file.
